


the touch of your skin (makes me shiver)

by CerinityKS



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Touch Aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerinityKS/pseuds/CerinityKS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d been dreaming of human contact, of touching someone, someone real for over a year. Mark honestly thought he’d die before he’d get the chance to touch someone again (pun kinda intended), and here he was, being touched and –</p>
            </blockquote>





	the touch of your skin (makes me shiver)

**Author's Note:**

> so i was thinking about how we all headcannon that mark was touch starved after mars, but like, what if it was also the opposite? what if he physically couldn’t stand touch after so long without it, as much as he wanted it? and then this was born - I don’t think i’ve written proper angst for this pairing yet? so enjoy? and feel free to yell at me, i kinda feel like i deserve it after this omg my poor baby i’m so sorry

The first time Chris, the first time _anyone_ , touched him skin to skin after Mars (and of _course_ it was Chris, Mark would later think, half hysterical) – Mark jerked away.

He’d been dreaming of human contact, of _touching_ someone, someone _real_ for over a year. Mark honestly thought he’d die before he’d get the chance to touch someone again (pun kinda intended), and here he was, being _touched_ and – 

It felt _wrong_. Like lightning under his skin, burning and tingling at that spot where _other_ touched _him_. It was uncomfortable, almost painful, and Mark had to choke back a cry at the unexpected touch. 

Chris had frozen, eyes wide, and Mark realized his reaction could have been taken for something else, a _hurt_ that Chris hadn’t been able to see. So Mark had forced himself to smile and lie, to say ‘I’m just messin’ with ya man, sorry, I know,’ to see Chris’s frown smooth out – change from concern to amusement in the blink of an eye. Chris played along, like the jerk ( _friend_ ) he was, and always announced whenever he was going to touch Mark next. Mark would grin and tense whenever Chris came closer ( _playing along_ ), and just _force_ himself not to throw himself bodily away from Chris’s touch. 

(the touch of the _one_ person he missed the most, the one he wanted to _touch_ the most, and it was so uncomfortable, almost _painful_ to feel, and god Mark really fucking hated Mars) 

Unfortunately, the thing no one tells you about being stranded alone on a planet for nearly two years before being rescued by some of your closest friends (your _family_ ) is this - _everyone_ wants to touch you. To see that you’re real, that you were there, that you could survive what any would have called impossible odds (and were, until those odds met _you_ and you blew them out of the _fucking_ water). 

And if there was one thing Mark didn’t want to do after so long and _finally_ being back in their presence it was this – cause them _more_ pain than when they’d thought they’d left him for dead on a barren planet. 

After all, he’d get over it, right? 

So he said nothing, took their affection and touching with a wide smile and the barest of flinches. He never sought out touch himself; instead he let them come to him. Mark took advantage of the fact that they were too happy to see him alive to question why he never touched them. After all – he used to be the most tactile of the crew. 

Oh how the mighty fall. 

However Mark knew one of them would notice, one of them would question it, _him_ , and his carefully constructed façade would break into a million little pieces and he’d no longer have anything to hide behind. 

So of fucking _course_ it would be Chris. 

Christopher _fucking_ Beck, Mr. Too-perfect-to-be-an-astronaut, and the one person Mark would never be able to keep a secret from. The moment Chris turned those baby blues on him he’d be done for. So when Mark stepped back into Chris’s room ( _his_ room for the time being, though sadly lacking the presence of Chris), he was unsurprised to find Chris waiting for him, a concerned look on his face. 

Mark just sighed and walked over to drop onto the bed next to Chris, carefully leaving a few inches of room between them. He saw Chris notice this from the corner of his eyes, the lines around Chris’s mouth deepening. 

“Shouldn’t frown so much doc, you’ll get wrinkles before your forty,” Mark smirked, tried to deflect the conversation with humor. 

The frown just deepened instead of smoothening out and when Chris raised his eyes to Mark’s they looked so _lost_ and _sad_. Like a fucking puppy. 

Mark groaned and flopped back carefully on the bed, careful of his newly healed ribs (that were still unfairly tender). 

“Oh my god, _stop_ with the _eyes_ already,” Mark sighed. 

“Mark,” Chris started, paused, then started again – slower this time, “Mark, there’s something you haven’t been telling us.” 

Chris didn’t phrase it as a statement because it wasn’t one – Chris clearly already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Mark _say_ it. 

“That pretty face of yours hides the asshole underneath petty well, doesn’t it?” Mark asked conversationally. 

“Mark.” 

Mark flopped his arm over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to take the risk of seeing Chris as he spoke. 

“ _Yes_ , okay? There’s something wrong, and you _know_ what it is Chris, so please, _don’t_ make me say it,” Mark begged. 

“Why?” Chris whispered. 

“Because then it would be _real_ , and if it’s real then I can’t _make it go away_ ,” Mark bit out. 

Chris was silent after that before the bed dipped with added weight and Mark knew without looking that Chris had lain down next to him, a warm weight next to him that didn’t touch. 

“Do you _want_ to get better?” Chris asked carefully. 

“Do I _want_ -?!” Mark started incredulously before he broke down in hysterical laughter. 

It was funny, Mark thought absently, how quickly his laughter turned to sobs. 

And he _was_ sobbing – he was crying in earnest, great, heaving sobs that rattled in his chest (still too small, still too malnourished) and stained his cheeks with tears. 

Chris sat up in alarm, eyes wide and, unknown to Mark, reached out only to stop as he remembered, realized that touching Mark would only make it _worse_ , and the look of _anguish_ that crossed his face at that moment would break even the coldest of hearts. 

“Mark,” Chris whispered instead, so _sad_ , and Mark laughed through his tears and opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to look at Chris. 

“I wa-want to to-touch so b-b-bad!” Mark choked out as he wiped at his nose. 

“But I c-c-can’t! It fee-eels wrong! I h-hate it! I ju-just want to to-ouch you ag-again without fee-feeling like my skin is bur-burning!” 

And then Chris was crying too, and they were crying together, but neither of them could reach out and touch the other – no matter how much they wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> find [this](http://rinnielove.tumblr.com/post/132167829111/the-touch-of-your-skin-makes-me-shiver) on tumblr x


End file.
